


He doesn't bite when he's with you

by RandomNotepad



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:13:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24793681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomNotepad/pseuds/RandomNotepad
Summary: Staci Pratt and his escape attempts.
Relationships: Staci Pratt/Jacob Seed
Comments: 12
Kudos: 55





	1. A ranger station with a view

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> updated version*

This felt wrong. 

It would have been hard enough to land within even 100 miles of Joseph seed let alone in the main compound of Edens Gate with this much ease.

The place was swarming with cultists. Those bliss flowers hanging from every surface as Pratt silenced the helicopter and looked with dismay at his colleagues and the marshal.

Pratt had voiced his opinion on how stupid this was when the US Marshal had arrived at the jail house 2 days ago. 

He’d reminded them of the kidnappings, deaths and unexpected violence from the cult as they had been prepping his helicopter the day before. 

He told them in no uncertain words that he thought each and every one of them would be given a once over before being drowned in the bliss and handed off like cattle to the slaughter, “then why are you coming!” questioned the Rookie as Pratt finished his safety checks and that hours bitch, “wouldn’t be much fun around here on my own, if you’re going into the fire then I’m riding shotgun!” he had grinned, giving a playful shove.

That grin long gone, and his lips shut tight and face the definition of worry as he watched the 4 of them walk with an uneasy speed towards the church and the father. 

He turned the engine off fully and settled in for a long wait as his heart beat loudly in his ears. Peggie’s passed by on each side of the helicopter, some casting him glances others out right staring at him. He shrunk as low as he could in the pilot seat and fiddled with his water bottle nervously. 

He heard shouting and angered yells after a few minutes of dread. 

Peaking up from his hidey-hole he spotted Whitehorse and Hudson jogging towards him, guns out and cultists surrounding them. The marshal shoved a cultist to the floor as someone screamed for him to start the engine. 

His fingers fumbled distractingly as the Rookie and Joseph Seed were pulled into the back and the helicopter began to rise. He felt the weight shift as cultists clung to the sides. He tried to focus on keeping balance as he saw the Edens Gate project symbol on a white jumper crawl over his windscreen and into the propeller. The propeller failed and they began to spin.

They were going down. Fast. He wrestled with the controls as beside him Whitehorse was barking orders that pratt couldn’t follow as behind him he could hear the frightened shouts of his passengers. 

As the ground approached, he swore he could hear singing.

He came to, upside down and dizzy. Belt digging into his waist sharply as blood rushed to his head, nose dripping with blood, eyes stinging and trying to focus as the smell of petrol began filling his sense of smell and taste. To his left he felt Whitehorse come too, groans of pain as tyres pulled up to the crash. Earl gave him a shove; which Staci didn’t feel was necessary.

Joseph seed stood upside down on a vehicle as he heard Hudson, the marshal and the rookie begin to panic behind him. “let the reaping begin", Hands grabbed him roughly by the wrists, his belt was undone, and he landed painfully on the broken glass of the helicopter’s windscreen, he was pulled sharply. Kicking and shouting he was dragged through the broken window and away from his helicopter which was leaking fuel at an alarming volume with the other passengers still inside.

He tried to stand as two large cultists dragged him towards a waiting van, Joey was sat at the vans back doors, breathing heavily from the fuel she had inhaled. Staci felt sick and dizzy from the mix of adrenaline, fuel and impact. The helicopter caught fire. 

He struggled to see over the flames, “Rook? Earl?”, no response as the helicopter was now fully engulfed and billowing thick black smoke. “After them" shouted a cultist as through the fires and trees he saw the back end of Rook booking it into the trees. He laughed obnoxiously and loudly as he was dragged away. The rough hands of the cultists on his shoulders forced him down and he landed on his knees in the dirt. A soft hand touched his neck, almost invisible but the feeling behind it made his skin crawl. The father moved to sit before him, eyes stern and searching behind those Amber glasses. Pratt spat on him. A small amount of blood, which landed neatly on those ugly glasses as Joseph. The man didn’t even blink. 

“You have a long way to go Deputy Pratt. But my brother works best with the ones with your type of spirit.” Staci gave a coy and bloody smirk, drunk on the adrenaline, Joseph only smiled. But inside Staci knew he had fucked up. He especially knew this when he was handcuffed and tossed onto the van floor. Blind folded and sober.

The ride was bumpy but thankfully short as each rock in the road sent him moving uncomfortably into feet. 

Rolling to a fast stop which pushed him to the end of the van. He felt brisk air as he was pulled by his ankles out and dumped onto dry dirt road. The metal of his cuffs dug in quick and sharp as his wrists were used to manoeuvre him from behind as his blindfold was removed. 

He recognised the area. Thick forests over-looked by sharp cliffs, the far-off howl of a wolf pack hunting in the deep valleys. The whitetail mountains. Jacob Seeds territory. He had been taken to the whitetail ranger Station. He had known the rangers who had been stationed here. The place was just abandoned files and boarded windows now.

Forced to sit in the main room Staci was cuffed to a broken radiator, he refused to even look at the cultist who gave his wrists a tug to ensure he was secured before taking his leave to join the other cultists who stood chatting as they created a makeshift roadblock.

The wheels crunched on rocks as the van left. 

What the hell was this? Some kind of twisted cult test? Why would they cuff him by only one wrist and then just leave him alone? did they think he posed that little a threat?

He was a cop dammit. And this wasn’t his first night left tied up and forgotten.

Staci shoved the radiator angrily with his torso. It groaned and shifted slightly from the wall. Dumb luck was on his side today. Laying himself flat out on the floor he managed to hook his foot around a stool near the ranger’s desk and pulled it to him quickly, letting it land on him, winding him slightly but making no sound. Using it as a makeshift barrier he continued his assault on the radiator. The wall crumbled easily and after struggling it came away from the fixture and landed safely on the stool which made a small scrapping noise which was ignored from outside. With free hands, albeit one with a set of handcuffs hanging from them, he planned his next move.

Keeping low against the wall he headed for the back window just on the 100% likelihood this wasn’t a test and his reward was a bullet to the leg if he walked out bold as brass through the front doors.

The window had already been smashed. When the eldest seed had arrived into the area everything with half a brain had fled through any exit possible. Thanking his continued luck Staci rolled out through the window and into a bush, brushing off the sticks and dirt he continued his glamorous escape.

He was definitely lost. 

It had rained at some point, but he couldn’t feel it over the pain in his feet and the sting from his leg as he trudged lost and alone in the whitetail forests for another hour in utter confusion and misery.

As dusk set in Staci made his way to a quite underpass. Cult barrels and Edens Gate markings painted the walls and surfaces. Pratt found a yellow rucksack abandoned beside 2 large crates which had been built on an overlook cut out of the underpass and giving spectacular views of the county, the red glows of cult outposts and yellows from civilians scattered widely across the landscape as Pratt prepared to settle in for a quick and unpleasant sleep. 

Using a crate as a barrier he searched through the backpack. Using some strips from an old t shirt inside, he wrapped his still cuffed wrist to give some padding from the metal. He patched himself up as best he could using this time to mentally count the bruises and damage caused by the helicopter crash that was now a day ago.

He made a makeshift sleeping bag from the rucksack and settled his back against the crate. 

It was still the same level of darkness when he heard movement near him. Exhausted he moved his stiff muscles as quietly as he could as voices echoed through the underpass. Pratt braced himself in the shadow of the crate, legs stiff and painful but prepared to haul ass if those voices reached him.

It wasn’t a voice, a deep growl and scrapping of paws on asphalt as some large dog rounded the corner, held tight by a man in the cult signature attire.

Pratt bolted from his spot slamming into a cultist who had rounded the crate following the dogs alert. Staci kicked out and rolled off the cultist who gave a yell as Staci felt his foot connect with the man’s sensitive area. A dirty tactic but it gave him time, but not enough as Flashlights filled the area, cultists rushing in to swarm him. 

Pulling the short straw on his choices he forced his aching legs over the ledge and after quickly eyeing the relatively large drop to the next ledge below him he twisted his body to jump. 

Large arms closed over his chest and heaved him with impressive strength backwards and onto the ground face first. He felt the man grapple him into an almost too easy hold which left the exhausted, hurt and out of breath deputy pinned.

It was a deep, almost guttural laugh followed by warm breath that tickled Staci’s ear as Jacob Seed pulled the smaller man into a stand, arm wrapped around Staci's neck in a choke hold. 

“Impressive" the voice whispered in his ear as Staci froze. The man still held him tight against the bulk that was the ex-soldier and he walked/marched Staci out, past a bend over cultist being reassured by his comrades and out of the underpass towards Jacobs own soldiers and a large, obvious in the light, wolf.

Staci was at least placed in a seat this time, as the van moved down winding roads another dawn beginning to show through the small slits in the van’s doors. Staci sat the entire trip trying not to think of what would happen when the van stopped.

The van stopped. 

The cultist on his left shoved a bag over his head. An actual bag.

It smelt of potatoes.


	2. The great escape attempt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pratt escapes the cage.

He was dragged again. This time he let them but he made sure it wasn’t easy. Going limp and digging in his heels he felt the Peggies pulling him pause and grunt as they tugged him forward at a slow and uneasy pace. He thanked the bag over his face they couldn’t see his face and know how petrified he truly was. 

He heard the eldest Seeds voice on a loud speaker to his right as he was pulled along. He heard the foot steps change from gravel and ground to wood and solid flooring.

He heard male voices, paper being moved and the scribbling of signatures before his walk continued.

Back on dirt the sound of metal scrapping and he was pushed. Stumbling forwards he fell hard against metal bars he had not expected. Ripping off the sack he pushed himself against the bars trying to melt with the steel as Jacob Seed stood before him. Red hair, rugged face covered in thick angry scars. He was an imposing figure of stern but calm energy. Staci dared to breathe. Snarling had him smack his head back against the metal as a large wolf sat staring him down from a cage next to his. Large metal muzzle and thick leather collar made the beast even more intimidating as he heard his cage door lock once again. The eldest Seed bolted it shut and making sure to keep Staci’s attention held the key up to his eye level. “your escape was impressive deputy but a fluke." Staci began to shake as hunger and his adrenaline began to fight him. "You are weak. You serve no purpose to me or the father. You are alive only because the father wants it. You are nothing more than an extra mouth. Your time here will be unpleasant but you will not die. Not till the father says so.” The man pocketed the key and left the stunned and shacking deputy. His eyes stayed focused on the soldier until he was obscured from view by the thick water proof sheet that worked as a roof and back wall to the cages. He waited till he was alone. Just himself and a drug fuelled wolf as his neighbour. He was really fucked.

It had been hours as Staci awoke, cold and stiff from the rough sleep he had managed. His mind focused from his painfully empty stomach to escape plans.

The growling from the judge next to him was beginning to irritate him. Each time a plan formed the beast would bash against the metal and his mind would blank. By the 5th failed thought Staci turned to glare at the crazed animal. He’d heard the radio chatter of the animals being drugged and aggressive but to look into the animals eyes and see nothing sent a chill down to his very core. If Jacob could do this to an animal what would he do to people. Staci loved animals. He wanted to help them. He had planned to be a vet but his grades weren’t enough. Thankfully he’d found a new calling with helping people. He wanted to help this animal though. Then his 6th plan was formed. He would have to be strong. Physically and mentally.

As the judge bashed it’s frame against the cage bars separating them Staci gripped it’s collar. Feet braced against the bars and hands white with effort he pulled. Choking the animal against the bars as it struggled and snarled at him.

He pulled, even as the animal went limp, he kept it in position, tight against the bars till his tears stopped. He placed his hands through the bars petting the dead face. Pulling the muzzle from it he turned to the cage wall and the dirt floor. 

He dug for hours. Hands raw, blistered and caked on dirt and blood. He dug till a hole had formed. Crawling half way he used his stinging hands to dig for his life.

He paused as a cultist walked nearby. The large black, water proof cover shielding him as the feet passed him with no notice. Risking it he pulled the sheet back to see the man’s back towards him. Water bottle in hand and binoculars in the other.

Staci crawled passed and to a large crate which reeked of expired meat and something that made his eyes see sparkles. Making his way passed empty cages he paused at a large barrel looking towards a fence that surrounded the area. To the far end stood a large house surrounded by more cages. These cages empty but the floors red and bars bent out of shape. At the edges of the arena stood tall towers with zip lines and a garden area converted into a make shift army training camp. Staci could hear voices from inside the house. Tired, chatting and chewing. The cultists were awake and would soon be out to attend their daily tasks. 

Staci continued his crawling as he moved into tall weeds and plants which hid him well as the dawn broke fully above him. Coating the barracks in crisp orange.

He reached the fence as the shouting began. From the cage area he heard cultists calling for weapons, alarms blared and the house doors swung wide as the occupants filed out to sort out the commotion.

Red lights appeared as snipers took position on the towers. The whole place was looking for him now. He remained frozen in his hiding spot. Too scared to move or make an attempt to escape. Jacobs voice boomed over the loudspeakers surrounding them.

“find him. Bring him in alive"

Fuck that noise.

As if realising his body would not move alone Pratts legs took charge and sprinting with terrified adrenaline, he made it to the fence, climbed over it with unknown agility and fled into the trees as bullets ricocheted behind him off stones and bark.

Find a plane screamed his brain as he used the last of his energy to slip away into the forest, using the last remnants of darkness and thicket to cover his tracks. He heard water running passed, heavy and fast. He made it to the river.

He stood on the river bed trying to get his bearings and pick a direction to flee. He stood in confusion and uncertainty for too long. His mind faltered as an arrow stuck out from his thigh. Across the river he saw the white of judges and the red flashes of the Peggies making their way across the water toward him. He felt dizzy. The same sparkles from the meat crates made his body weak and muscles soften. He knelt in the damp river bed as the cultists surrounded him. "Not a fluke" came a voice in his head. "You have the desire to live peaches. But do you have the strength to kill for if?" This time he knew he could hear music as his sight went red and faded to blackness.


	3. Bliss and 1st trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bliss does more than mess with Stacis mind

His skin felt hot and itchy. Mind lost to a metallic instrument playing a mesmerizing song.

“Prove your worth” came a voice to his right.

“will you fight back, or will you allow them to take you?” asked another to his left.

“Get up, fight, live!” came the last from above.

The room was shaking. Shadow people ran past him, they melted as soon as they appeared. He felt sick. The song was still playing from somewhere, was it in his head?

Staci vomited.

He fell to his knees as the room shook violently. “Get up”. “Not good enough”. Pratt tried. He got to his feet as another wave of nausea hit, vomiting again. A dark vomit that smelt of copper and bile. He was sweating; the room was too hot. The shadow people felt like steam, burning his skin as he picked up a knife from the desk near him. “good, fight back” came the voice, encouraging him as he swallowed the confusion and fear, desperate to move and escape from this heat. He slashed wildly. A gun lay near him, he touched it. It burned his hand. The voice continued to berate him as he stumbled down halls and into more shadows. He was pushed to the ground. Rolling into a protective ball, his skin ached now, angry red spots coated his bare arms as he vomited again. Blood. He screamed as his brain began to fight itself, body spasming as he bit the inside of his mouth, spraying blood in an impressive display as his body spasmed before he lay still, blood dripping from his gapping mouth as the shadows stood, silent and watching. His eyes rolled back as his body lay frozen in place still burning inside.

“Stop” came the voice above. “Medic” called the one to his right. “Breathe Peaches, breathe” came the voice to his left as he panted, his throat itchy, his tongue swolen and his vision blurred. “Prove you can be strong. Live”. He wanted to. He would. Blood drooled from his mouth as he felt a cold hand touch his face, examining him.

He felt a sharp sting to his thigh, many hands upon his skin, he felt trapped. He was still a cop. He was still protected. Wasn’t he?

Not here. You’re not a cop here he realised. They don’t care about your badge, or what you want. They will take from you and they will do it with a smile. Do not let them. Turning on his side he sank his teeth into the first hand that touched him, he felt bones scrapping beneath his teeth. Voices shouting all around him as he bit harder. Letting go only when a heavy fist connected to his face, the hand pulled free and he rolled to his other side kicking and scratching out. No one was touching him again. The hands returned, rougher, fingers bruising as they forced him into submission. Don’t touch me he whispered. Don’t look at me he snapped. Don’t make me kill you he screamed. He wasn’t a cop anymore. He was a man who would live.

An allergy. He was allergic to the bliss.

He lay in a bed, he was in an old hospital, abandoned and forgotten in the Whitetail mountains. The light above him buzzed and dimmed but did not die. He was on his side, thick straps on his wrists and ankles keeping him subdued. Although the heavy dose of diazepam had him sedated and compliant enough.

A medic was explaining to Jacob Seed why he had witnessed the man struggling but still going through the trial suddenly vomit and begin to convulse, spaying mouthfuls of blood in a dramatic display that had thrown his most hardened soldier off her game.

Jacob nodded as the medic spoke, rubbing at his wrist dressing that covered a sizeable bite he had received from the deputy currently sedated on the bed near him. He thanked the medic who nodded and left as the ex-soldier took a seat on the bed at Staci’s feet and thought for a few moments of peace and quiet. The only sounds of the two men breathing.

After a few minutes of thought Jacob turned to give the other man a look over. His tired eyes took in the restrained figure and he gave the deputy a small jab in the side, Staci’s eyes stared into Jacobs. Waiting.

“Can you write more than a parking ticket or arrest warrant?” Jacob queeried. Staci nodded, slowly from the medication but Jacob continued. “You will die if you leave” he stated matter of fact as Staci attempted to roll onto his back. “Every man and woman in my army serve a purpose. The strong thrive here. You are not strong. Not in the way I wanted” he continued pushing Staci over so he could lie on his back, eyes still fixed on Jacob’s face, waiting.

“We use our strength to defend what is ours, we feed off the weak. But within my army we also have strong thinkers. We have strategists, medics, problem solvers.” Jacob was now leaning, looming over. “You’re a thinker. You showed me that at the ranger station, you showed me that with the judge and even now” he was now almost on top of Staci who was beginning to feel intimidated, like a mouse beneath a cat. “You know what I will do if you leave. Your smart enough to know. You will assist me with meetings, you will take notes and you will take stock. They will look to you for information and you will not fail to deliver it. You will never fail me. If you run, I will find you. You belong to us now Peaches. If you contribute you will live a good life here. You may not be happy, but you will survive.” with that Jacob stood and left, the door shut with a sharp resounding click of affirmation as Staci lay, shaken and worryingly a little hard.


	4. A peaceful truce then an unfortunate headache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Staci learns to adapt then the Rook finds him.

Dusk was pulling in fast as Staci pushed the final box into a cult van and paused to collect himself. The driver gave him a pat on the back as he locked the doors watching the man enter the vehicle which drove off sharp out of the grounds of the hospital and into the whitetail mountains the gates closed as quickly behind it. The soldiers collected the empty boxes left behind and finished their duties as Staci finished taking notes from today’s deliveries and made side notes to report back to Jacob.

It had been weeks now since he'd been dragged to Jacobs army and he had felt accepted within the first week. 

Jacob had been truthful. Pulling his weight around and trying to stay off the radar of the father, Staci found a worrying kinship within Jacobs army. They looked tough and ready to slice you open if you sneezed wrong, but they were also warm, open and protective. These were honest people. 

He soon found that all the soldiers Jacob kept in the hospital, that not one of them believed in the father's words or ideas. They were just soldiers fighting another war they didn't start. They were not cruel or malicious like the cultists and the angels. These were humans trying to survive as they always had.

Staci felt comfortable around them.

He felt safe.

Then Rook was brought in.

He recognised the drugged figure as the escape artist deputy was carried into the training area. They had been hard at work sorting out new weaponry when the radio call had come through. Staci had frozen in his spot watching as Jacob gave commands across the radio before heading out and down to the projection room in the training fields. Staci had followed at his heels like always.

But as Staci watched Rook placed in a seat and tied tightly before the projector, alongside 2 other civilians, Staci had moved involuntarily towards his friend. His hand had barely made contact when Jacob, who looked almost gleeful, had appeared at his side standing before the youngest deputy whose head bobbed as the unconscious body began to stir. Staci meant to object. He wanted to stop Jacob, wanted to put himself between the eldest Seed and his friend. Protect and serve.

But as he fought for the words Jacob had started his speech, his slide show of horror as Staci stood beside the screen fighting for his voice to be heard. He was gently pushed out of the room as the familiar tune began to fill the air and his thoughts tripped over themselves and his traitorous mouth remained silent.

After a while of glaring at the office door he had found himself in, Staci heard gunfire and shouts. From the window he could see the whitetail militia swarming the training grounds. Grabbing his gun, he defended his current home and stood beside the soldiers.

They fought through thick clouds of dust and the snarling of the judges as whitetails and soldiers clashed. Staci didn't kill. He didn't want to. But the militia were not as kind.

Nursing several deep cuts and bruises Staci swore at his own naivety. He could still feel the hard eyes on him as the militia soldier had slammed him down to the ground and raised a knife as thick as Staci's arm above the terrified cop's head.

He didn't kill. He only reacted. Blood had poured onto his hands, his face. He had been painted by it.

The man's lifeless eyes were burned into his memory.

He learnt from the whispers among the soldiers that the whitetails had taken Rook and vanished in a display of explosions and gunshots to the "wolfs den". A secret headquarters of the militia somewhere in the mountains.

Patched up and feeling sick he walked across the war room and to the balcony where a few soldiers were sharing cigarettes.

Accepting the burning end of one from a female soldier on duty Staci looked out across the trees and winding mountains and thought back to the helicopter crash. Running a finger over a now healed scar from that day Staci handed back the cigarette and headed back inside the war room feeling sick and tired.

Jacob stood, hunched and glaring at the maps before him. Cigarette clenched in his teeth as he glared at Hope County. The Ash coming closer to his mouth. Without thinking Staci took it from the man and stubbed it out with one hand while handing a forgotten water bottle to him with the other. This was routine for them. With his writing skills and knowledge of hope county it hadn't taken Jacob long to have Staci at his side most of the day. Using him as both assistant and maid. Staci had in the beginning put up a fuss. The look from Jacob had been enough warning. The screams of prisoners echoing from below the ground floor mixed with the anger emitting from the man gave Staci 2 feelings. One was fear. The other was confusing and made his body feel fuzzy.

So, he shut his mouth and he helped. An easy peace followed. One of authority and a kind of respect a teenager shows a child who is behaving well. Staci stood beside Jacob who after a few Swigs of water grumbled a noise of thanks.

They had spent days pouring over the maps again and again together looking for caves, shelters. Anything large enough the militia could use as their den. It was approaching 3am when Jacob finally called it a day. Softly placing down his pen, back cracking he gave a deep sigh of frustration. Staci lay in an armchair, legs over the armrest and head forward against his chest, half asleep. He felt Jacobs rough hands on his legs giving him a jolt to wake up. The younger man stretched and pulled himself upright, yawning loudly.

They walked in silence down the hall and to the bed areas. Snoring and other sleeping noises filled the building as Staci entered Jacobs room. The bedroom had once been a surgical unit. A large bed to one side with medical curtains put up in a haphazard way to allow Staci some privacy of his own. A small cot and wash basin at the window was Staci's space. 

Jacob knew Staci wouldn't dare escape but with the argument that he would be using Staci as leverage if the need arose from the rook attacking the compound Staci had to agree it made sense and that was how he found himself sharing a living space with Jacob Seed.

He had been asleep for maybe an hour, Jacobs soft snoring and the wind outside making him feel at ease. He was cold. Shivering, he tried to pull his blanket up and over himself, it didn't budge. He leant up in sleepy confusion and began to pat along his bed for the cause of the problem.

His hand landed on someone else's and he reeled back and froze. "Deputy Pratt?" Asked a stranger's voice. "Y..yes?" He replied and quickly regretted it. Someone grabbed him. He struggled and kicked out as more than one set of hands gripped him roughly. "LET FUCKING GO!" He screamed as his mind raced with panic and weeks worth of anger. He brought his head forward and collided with a larger and thicker skull that sent his mind reeling as both he and his asailant grimaced in pain. The room filled with light and he heard doors slam open as the soldiers rushed in. 

using the new found light source to their advantage his assailant and their companion gripped onto him easily. Using their weight and energy against the smaller and exhausted deputy. He found himself held tight by two men he had never seen before. Four hands held him by the throat, hair and both arms as he struggled against them. His frantic eyes caught sight of Jacob who stood, one hand on the light switch and the other on his gun. His face pale but his eyes hot and angry. "You going to do anything about this?" Shouted Staci finally at his wits end. Taking his comment to be directed towards themselves, his current bunk mates nodded as one. Staci was then lifted off his feet and thrown backwards out of the open window behind him. He was swallowed by the darkness of the night.

He landed on something softer than gravel and he rolled onto his side trying to figure out his location as stones and dirt moved around him, kicked by many stranger's feet as they hunted for him. He managed to get to his knees and off the makeshift life net as torch beams began to pop up around him. Casting shapes of people around him placing him in a human shadow puppet display. 

The hospital lights began to illuminate the grounds as Staci weaved in and around the shadows reaching for him. He could almost make out the judge’s cages before him. The hospital's main entrance doors flew open and the entire court was flooded with light. Staci was body slammed hard to the floor as a man smelling strongly of beer and fireworks bear wrestled him into a choke hold. He wriggled and kicked but the large man held him fast and began to drag him away. "Let go of me you tipsy dickhead!" Staci gasped out as he was continuing to be manhandled but who he now recognised to be Sharky, a local annoyance of his.

When the shooting began the beer bandit released one arm, his other tattooed and sweaty arm held Staci tight in a choke hold as he fired a flare gun into the air.

The courtyard was bathed in whites, yellows and reds as soldiers and shadows fought.

Staci heard Jacob and his judges enter the fight then blackness as the man holding him lifted what he would learn later was a missile launcher to his shoulder and unfortunately into Staci's head.


	5. Cuts, bruises and emotional pain.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Staci plans his next move as Hope county sees their ex deputy as a new enemy.

5 Weeks. It had taken the rookie and the occupants of hope county 5 weeks to plan an attack on Jacobs compound and rescue Staci. 5 weeks.

It took Jacob 2 days.

Staci sat tapping his feet with pent-up energy as he stared at the same desk for the second day in a row. They didn't trust him. He couldn't go for a piss without two pairs of eyes watching him for any sudden moves. He wasn't a deputy in their eyes anymore. He wasn't the same Pratt who had managed to beat Earl at cards. The same man who had played pranks on Dutch. The cop who could take an ass kicking from Sharky and give it back in kind. Not even a member of the community. They saw him as the enemy. 

Jacobs pet, they called him. He'd heard it before when the soldiers would return from runs. They would sit and talk, laugh and tell him of all the goings on in the county. The rumours that had started about him and the eldest seed. Jacob, for his part, laughed once and let the rumours spiral. Giving his men and women much-needed laughter. Even if it left Staci's face burning.

He grinned thinking of those days, when it was just Jacob and himself. An easy silence and almost comfortable closeness. The threat of leaving was always there but with it a sense of security and protection mixed with a dose of Stockholm syndrome Staci laughed out loud

The cuffs on his wrists jingled, cutting his small dash of joy back to stone cold reality as his own cuffs kept him tied to the prison desk.

The hours he'd spent at this desk completing work and sharing coffee with his colleagues who now stood 50 feet from him as his enemies.

At least the Rookie still showed him kindness. They had been through hell. Staci heard of Johns attempted drowning and Faiths series of bliss assaults. The Rook understood why Staci felt torn. But the Rook wasn't here. He could hear the distant destruction of the fathers statue from inside his little cell as Rook continued their mission to remove the cults presence entirely.

Staci agreed with them. The father was insane. He had strayed too far into power. He was unstable. Dangerous. So was John. So was Faith.

Jacob.

The prison windows lit up as explosions sounded from outside. The sounds were far too violent. Staci could barely see from the office windows but he heard the fighting. Screams, gun shots, metal breaking as a war raged outside. He was in faiths territory. He kicked at the desk as his guards rushed past him to help with the onslaught. Staci pushed his chair from him and shoved the desk with all his energy. It cried against the stone floor as he heard the angels screech.

Climbing under the table he dragged the cuffs down to where the table leg met the floor. Arching his back he pushed feeling the metal bars digging into his back's flesh. He pushed until the cuffs squeezed under and towards his chest. The table slammed angrily back in place as the man below it sucked in a painful breath as he felt the back of his shirt beginning to dampen from the scratches left from the table.

He followed the back entrance to the stairwell. It had collapsed. Cursing his luck Pratt crept low to the back door and out into the courtyard. Crates and ammunition boxes lay opened and half empty as the battle raged. Pratt gripped a shovel for defence as he approached a ladder taking himself up to the prison walls. Crouching Pratt readied himself to flee. A boot connected with his already damaged back and he was pushed down to the walkways floor. 

One of the citizens stood above him, gun aimed without hesitation at his face.

A second citizen gripped his still cuffed wrists and they dragged him towards Whitehorse who was barking orders and ducking as a molotov flew over the wall. Pratt was enclosed in one of the viewing decks as the two citizens took spots either side shooting from the windows. This was far too organised Staci thought as another molotov crashed against one of the ammunition crates and began to pop.

Staci heard Earl barking and he was once again manhandled. He had a sudden sense of deja vu as he was thrown backwards from the wall and onto a makeshift landing spot in the courtyard below. More hands grabbed him, his shirt ripping and fresh scratches to his legs as he was forced into a truck.

They tore through the makeshift barricade as Whitehorse and the other civilians fled in their own vehicles. The prison was overrun.

Pratt lay face down in the trucks back as the manic driver floored it down the uneven roads.

Staci's face hit the driver's seat as the man hit the brakes before making a sharp turn as if chased by the hounds of hell. Staci managed to push himself on the truck's floor as the vehicle suddenly became airborne. The side of the truck hit with a tremendous force.

Staci's déjà vu feeling returned.

He could smell fuel. His training kicked in. Fight. 

He kicked out at the truck's door and pushed himself upright as rage fueled him. He would live. He would live just to make sure that all the citizens of Hope county knew they had made a mistake to turn on him after all he had given for them. The abuse he had suffered from back water, self entitled citizens. The insults and jabs about his sexuality made at the bars by the locals he had grown up with. The looks of disgust he was given, hatred towards a man who only wanted to serve and protect. They had even used his sexuality to accuse him of whoring himself out to survive. Choosing to lie down and take it instead of fight for his own people and county! 

He would live. He was strong.  
They weren't.

He walked for a few miles, towards the river. Where he sat waist deep, the cool water rinsing his back and aching legs as he glared. Did no-one care for him. Was he so hated they would rather throw him to the wolves than try to save him. But the wolves would take him. They had already. He was part of a pack. A strong, protective, angry pack. Who knew what he was. Who still sat and shared food with him. Who slept in the same room as him without judgement or disgust at what and who he was. He belonged to the wolves.

"Peaches"

It was soft. The softest he had ever heard the voice speak. The wolves stood on the river bank. Bloodied, torn and smiling. Jacob walked towards him. The river making no attempt to slow him as he reached Pratt. A ragged hand outstretched towards the smaller man who sat in the river. He took the hand without question. Jacob placed his hand on Staci's back. He walked with the soldier back to his army who envelops him in a circle of protection. Jacob's hand still on Pratt's back. Comforting and grounding. 

It was late evening when they arrived back at the hospital. The metal gates closed gently behind them. The wolves barked playfully in their cages. Staci walked in time with Jacob. 

The soldiers bid them good night as they played and shoved each other, blood of the Hope county citizens still marking their faces. Traitor blood.

Jacob sat on his bed untying his boots as Staci stood locking the door before catching a small smile as he looked at the boarded and secured window. He almost wept, ready for sleep. But a burning question fought its way out of his mouth.

"Why?". Jacob stopped and turned his eyes on Pratt. 

"Any other soldier you would have left. Don't lie and don't tell me its to use me against them. We both know what they think of me. I want an honest answer from you tonight?" Staci braved. He was unsure if it was the sudden courage or the outright audacity of his question that had Jacob sitting frozen in spot. Boot laces still in hand.

"When I was in the army. I did not get along with my platoon. They disliked me for two reasons. I was stronger than them and I liked men. This angered them because they wanted to hurt me for the second reason but couldn't due to the first." Staci was now frozen. "When I began this army. I ensured that all of my troops knew this was a place of blood. That strength and loyalty were necessary to survive. But what they were, who they loved and how they lived would never be judged." Jacob kicked off his boots. "I do not lie to my men" Jacob removed his vest and shirt. "You are alive because I wish it and you will stay here because I want you too. If you leave you are smart enough to know what will happen." Jacob was now shirtless. Thick muscles covered by deep burns and scars that painted him like a battlefield. "Now it is time for you to be honest with yourself Pratt." Staci noticed his cot was gone. "You are strong for me. you are loyal to me. Be honest about me!". Jacob stood before him, an imposing figure that for this moment showed softness, vulnerability and a life without secrets. Pratt closed the distance. Placing a hand on Jacobs face, almost painfully slow.

"I want to stay" he met Jacobs lips in a kiss almost too sweet before rough hands gripped his hips and guided him to the bed.


End file.
